Till death do we part
by simplycharmed-xo
Summary: A short little one-shot that explains how Scott met Stiles in kindergarten. Scottles!


Everything had been perfectly fine when Scott McCall had been a _nobody_ in the high school food chain. It made sense, too. He wasn't one of those kids that was, well, cute. The best way to describe him at that time was awkward. Ever since he was a baby his jaw had been a little bit too crooked and as he grew, his nose never really matched his small, misshapen face. Even his body was small, weak, and undeveloped and constantly plagued with asthma attacks and diseases. Maybe if he were gifted in some sort of area like academics, sports, or the arts, all of those embarrassing features could be looked over, but he wasn't. The teachers didn't even consider the poor boy average.

"Below average," they had told his parents.

Scott McCall was the runt of the school.

That's what everyone called him. **Runt**. Ever since the first day of kindergarten when he had been forced to play with Jackson Whitemore, an insanely gorgeous kid with bright blue eyes and a mischievous grin, in a game of dodge ball that was meant to help the other kids get to know each other. It was a stupid, really. The teacher seemed to have forgotten that children could be quite cruel to each other, but that thought really did seem to pass over her head as she pushed little Scott towards Jackson and the other boys who were already joking and laughing. Not only was the boy cute, but charming as well.

"Hey, my name is Jackson." The cute little boy stated pompously as tiny Scott toddled beside him.

"Scott …" he muttered shyly as he clumsily tried to catch one of the balls that was thrown at him. He failed and the other boys snickered. Jackson shushed them quickly before turning back to the littlest boy with a large and devious smile etched onto his perfectly structured face.

"So Scott, want to play?"

Scott, being oh so young and naïve, nodded enthusiastically and grabbed the ball that was laid at his feet. It was soft, not one of those large rubber balls. Just a foam ball that could be easily tossed about without anyone getting hurt. Jackson smiled with faux innocence and told the littlest boy to go stand by that wall while they decided who else would be on his team. He happily did as he told as he padded across the dirty playground towards the wall while the rest of the boys turned to each other whispering. Scott smiled, thinking that maybe things would finally be alright. Maybe school wouldn't be so bad, but boy was that poor child wrong.

Before he even had the chance to blink his large, brown eyes, Scott could feel to soft impact of those foam balls hitting him over and over against his skin. Instinct took over and he tried his best to shield himself with arms blocking his face, but it didn't change the fact that he was still getting _hit_ and was being made a fool of once again in his short life. He could hear the malicious laughter emitting from the others boys, but it was Jackson's he heard most of all. How could he have been such a fool to trust someone that was far more superior then him?

Still shielding his face, the balls hitting him began to slowly decease, but now he had to deal with the fact that his eyes were stinging with the beginnings of tears. This was completely embarrassing. It was only the beginning of Kindergarden and he was being made a fool of. He did the only thing he could think of and ran away, keeping his face covered. He didn't want them to see that he started to cry, but they knew. Scott could hear them taunting him about it. They called him a baby. They said boys didn't cry. They laughed and slandered him viciously, but it was Jackson's words that were the loudest and the cruelest.

"_Runaway_!" He called, laughing offhandedly. "I'll still be the top dog around here and you'll always be nothing but the **runt** of the school."

The runt. That was his nickname from then on, thanks to Jackson. He, of course, was right. Jackson was the top dog around school, even way back then. How could he not be? His family was rich and powerful throughout the town. His charisma made him friends easily. He was beautiful, too. He was a leader, the top dog, an alpha. Scott's Grandfather used to raise dogs for a living and he knew exactly what happened to the runt of the litter. They were drowned. Right now, it felt like Scott was drowning, too. How could he have been so foolish to think that things might actually change? How could he be so foolish?

He ran as far away from them as he could and finally feeling no more energy to run, he leaned against a tree, panting heavily. Maybe it had been a stupid thing to do. Running, that is. He wasn't very good when it came to athletics and got worn down easily … but there was no way he could have stood there and listen to those taunting any longer. Not without completely sobbing and perhaps, embarrassingly, going into fetal position, praying they'd just leave. Would they really though? Probably not. They might have just continued until they finally got bored. It was safer here, by this tree, crying freely. He lifted up a small, shaking hand and noisily began to wipe the tears away. So dumb. He was so dumb. Maybe he could call his Mommy and go home …

"Hey."

Scott tensed at the high-pitched, even squeaky voice. Slowly, he tilted his head up to see a tiny, scraggly, skinny kid. The boy ran a hand through his buzz cut, brown-ish hair, smiling sheepishly. "You alright, dude?"

"Yeah, fine." He responded stiffly. The itty-bitty boy in front of him furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully, rocking back and forth on his heels. "I'm fine." Scott insisted with a sigh, standing up a little bit straighter. The buzz-cut kid raised his eyebrows and his hands, sarcastically, in defense.

"I believe you!" he assured, smiling. "My name is Stiles."

"Stiles?" his voice was filled with amusement.

"Well, not really, but we're not that close of friends yet, so I'm not going to you my first name," Stiles informed, grinning now, obviously happy to see he had gotten some sort of joyful reaction from the upset boy.

Scott cocked his head, showing off his crooked jaw. Friends? Not close friends yet? Did that mean Stiles wanted to be his friend … he was smiling. That was a good sign. Wasn't it? Jackson had smiled, too, though and he hadn't want to be his friend, but Stiles smile was … sweet. It was sweet and genuine. Not at all like Jackson's. His was manipulative, conniving, sly. Stiles smile was innocent, kind,_sweet_. Scott gave him a small grin, putting out his tiny hand like he'd seen grown ups do when they greeted each other.

"My name is Scott." Stiles grinned from ear to ear, it taking over his whole face. He placed his own small hand, perhaps even tinier than his new friend's, in Scott's and shook it heartily.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Scotty!"he exclaimed, skipping beside him. "Want to go inside and play? Apparently some group of boys are going around being butt-heads to everyone. Plus, inside, there's a train set that I kind of wanted to play with." He admitted, glancing at the door.

"Yeah, that sounds good." Scott nodded, already speedily heading inside, Stiles following beside him, their tiny frames looking ridiculously perfect together. The pale, skinny kid with the tan, skinny kid. Both a little awkward, both not really caring at that moment. Both of them were runts, but that was fine. At least they had each other, right?

They stayed inside for the rest of recess, building their grand railroad, laughing and joking with each other in those tiny, mousy voices of theirs. It had only been 30 minutes, but they had already come up with inside jokes that would make their friendship stronger. Scott and Stiles. Stiles and Scott. The two runts that had each others back from day one. The rest of that day, they never left one another's side. That's how it was with them even way back then. And when Jackson came over to intimidate the two, they could finally stand their ground and fight back with what they had: sarcastic comments. It didn't always pay off, because sometimes they ended up with a bruise or two, but when that did happen, they were there limping on each other for support, victorious in a lost battle.

Scott and Stiles.

Stiles and Scott.

That's how they were known from then on. Not one separated from the other.


End file.
